Saturday, September 3, 2016

lights we cannot see

cities are throbbing bloodstreams
pedestrians flowing through lanes of traffic
like so many million erythrocytes
the fun flows freely here
and we grow intoxicated
on glamorous anonymity.

our lives are spent
trying to convince our hearts
that anything else
but
the midnight sky
the ocean's cry
the tickle of fresh grass
sunlight hitting old trees
snow falling in silence
a blooming tomato plant
holding our infant brother
weeding basil in the garden
that terrifying love
which rips open our hearts
and stamps its insoluble
face upon our memory
will make us happy.

Do you want to be well?
reach for the nearest substitute--
you are too afraid for joy.

take this cup from me but not my will but yours be done is like the original marathon, which was undertaken to show the remainder of the ...

About me

"I never want to lose the story-loving child within me, or the adolescent, or the young woman, or the middle-aged one, because all together they help me to be fully alive on this journey, and show me that I must be willing to go where it takes me, even through the valley of the shadow."--Madeleine L'Engle